Cursing at myself under my breath as I run out of the cornfield, I’m fucking pissed off for not only choosing to get this drunk tonight, but for having such a poor choice in shoes, not to mention the fact that I just had a mind-blowing orgasm served to me on a corn cob by a masked man in a corn field. Who wears heels to a cornfield? And who the fuck do I think I am coming all over this man’s corn?
Me, apparently, and I’m a fucking idiot.
I want to say I don’t want him to catch me, and I don’t want this stranger to touch me, fuck me, or even look at me… but something buried deep down in the dark depths of my soul is singing. There’s adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I don’t think it’s all out of fear. There’s sexual arousal, as he just proved, and I feel so deeply conflicted right now.
I shouldn’t like it, and I shouldn’t want it, but there’s something deeper going on than I can understand right now. I’m overloaded, and I don’t know how to process it.
The cornfield comes to an abrupt end, opening to the widely spread pumpkin patch. Most of the pumpkins are picked over, leaving only a few rotting fruits left in the field.
Rhett isn’t far behind me, and he’s playing games. He knew I wouldn’t make it very far in this drunken state with one heel somehow securely strapped to my foot. It’s almost like he planned this and fucked with my shoes.
But, how could he? I was home all day and most of the day yesterday, and this man doesn’t know me, or at least I don’t think he knows me. He said his name was Rhett, and I don’t think I know anyone by that name.
Or do I?
“This is the perfect location,” Rhett announces loudly as he exits the cornfield behind me. Throwing his hands up, cigarette puffing lazily from his mouth, he continues, “To claim what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours,” I spit, backing deeper and deeper into the pumpkin patch.
I’m too far away for anyone to hear my screams. I’ve stupidly run to the far end of the farm, and I know there won’t be anyone stumbling out this way. A small part of me feels like I may have done this on purpose, though, separating myself further from safety. Perhaps I’m feeding into his chase.
He laughs in the same hauntingly sexy way he did when he first appeared in the corn. There’s something about that voice…
Rhett watches me intently through the mesh eye holes as he takes a step forward. My heart and breathing stop at the same time as I wait, trying to anticipate his next move. There isn’t much out here for me to defend myself with, and I’ve clearly got no weapons hidden anywhere on me.
He takes another step forward.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I threaten, picking up a rotting pumpkin as I continue to back away from him.
He matches my pace, stepping toward me with each step I take away. After a few long, drawn-out moments filled with anticipation, he tosses his cigarette, smashing it into the ground beneath his foot as he twists it.
“I can’t do that,” he says in a chillingly calm manner.
“Why not?” I breathe.
“Because I made a promise to both of us after I saw you walk into the coffee shop with your little redheaded friend.” He takes another stride toward me.
He’s talking about Sloan. He must have seen us at Rustic Roast yesterday.
“What promise?”
“That you’d be mine and that I’d claim you tonight.” Downwind of him, I catch a whiff of his scent: cedar and citrus. “I don’t break my promises.”
For whatever reason, I don’t doubt that. I believe every word leaving his deranged mouth. “I’m not yours,” I say in the sternest voice I can manage.
Closing in, he’s only ten feet away now.
Doing the only thing I can think of in this moment, I throw the rotten pumpkin at him, and it explodes all over his leather jacket. He stops, freezing in place as he analyzes the damage I’ve done. I don’t hesitate to pick up another pumpkin and throw it at his head as he’s caught off guard.
His hands go up, and he begins to block my assaults, but I throw pumpkin after pumpkin, trying to buy myself time while I think up a plan.
But, my mind is empty. I’m void of all ideas, and I’m at a loss for what to do.
He speeds up, sprinting at me full speed before I can even flinch. His body slams into me as he tackles me to the ground. I struggle against him, fighting and kicking, but his heavy body weight is too much for me. He easily pins me to the ground while he pulls pumpkin vines from all around us, making quick work of tying me up.
He pulls on the vines as though they’re rope he bought from the hardware store, and he makes a satisfied sound when he sees they don’t budge. My hands are tied above my head while my ankles are tied separately to vines on both sides of us, spread wide for him. I try to pull against them, but they only tighten, leaving no room for me to move.
A heat in my core begins to warm when I realize just how stuck and at his mercy I am, and I can feel myself getting wet again. I’m terrified of the man hovering over me, but I’m not afraid for my life.
In the fight, my skirt was hiked up over my hips, and now I’m completely bare before him. Not wearing panties tonight is another thing I’m cursing myself for.
The sound of his pants unzipping hits my ears, and my nipples perk up.
Leaning over me, he brings his face close to mine as he wraps his hand around my throat. “This is punishment for not wearing panties and for fucking Jonah in front of me last night. You are mine, and I will pleasure you however I please. Your body was made for me.”
“You’re delusional,” I whisper into his ear, sending chills down my own spine.
For fucking Jonah in front of him? Was he following me around all night?
My back involuntarily arches as he surprises me, sliding the head of his firm cock against my clit, coating it in my arousal.
“Am I?” he asks, swirling his hardness around my clit.
“Yes,” I breathe through unsteady breaths.
He pulls his dick away, replacing it with his large, coarse fingers. His thumb rolls around my clit in circles, and a quiet whimper escapes my lips, turning into a moan as it gets louder with each swirl. Pushing one finger inside me, I cry out as it slides easily.
“Mmm,” he growls against my ear. “Am I making you feel good, little nightmare?”
“No,” I shake my head, but my body betrays me when I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down as my pleasure builds.
“You’re lying.” I can hear the smile in his voice. He forces a second finger inside me, pumping me three or four times before filling me with a third thick finger. “You’re so fucking wet,” he groans into my ear.
Rhett’s hand begins to move faster, thrusting in and out as he ramps up the pace. Shaking under the pleasure, I cry out, feeling overloaded with the intensity of the incoming orgasm. His fingers continue to move inside me while he presses his thumb against my clit, applying firm pressure as he goes.
I wiggle against him, desperate for air as I drown beneath his rough touch. He’s too fucking good at this. I shouldn’t be loving this as much as I am, but I can’t help myself. My body is screaming for him, for more of him.
Stars begin to form in my vision as my orgasm goes ripping through me. I scream out into the frigid night, riding the high for as long as his fingers keep moving inside me. My body jerks against him, instinctually riding against his fingers as much as my bounds will allow.
“That’s it, baby,” he moans between each deliciously dark thrust. “You fucking love this.”
As the ecstasy of my orgasm calms, he removes his fingers from my pussy, bringing them to my mouth. “Open,” he commands, pressing against my lips.
Remembering his knife and what he did with it the last time I disobeyed a direct order, I open my lips for him.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he sinks his fingers inside my mouth. “Close your mouth, and suck.”
I shut my lips around his fingers, flicking and rolling my tongue against his fingers as I suck against him. My eyes flutter back, and I can feel heat building between my thighs again.
“Do you know what you taste like?” he asks, removing his fingers from my mouth when he’s satisfied with my work.
I don’t answer him, I only stare up at him as he lines his dick up against my traitor of a pussy. I’m more wet for Rhett in twenty minutes than I have been for any other man I’ve been with.
“Mine.”
